For Uncle Jack

Axidents Will Happen

The air was brisk. Not a jacket brisk, but a good flannel brisk. It was a typical fall Saturday morning not unlike any other. The routine was to walk down to Owen’s place for coffee every Saturday morning and shoot the shit for a while. Normally this took place after I stumbled around about a half-hour or so, smoked a couple cigarettes and managed to find a pair of socks that reasonably matched. Owen and I are, well, we’re very good friends. He’s real reliable like a dog, only sometimes not as bright. Owen, of course, always had somethin` to complain about. Usually it was about his wife Clare. Well, after a few cups of mud we’d usually hop in Owen’s truck and head over to Jack’s house and that’s exactly what Owen and I did.

Now Jack, he was always up to something. If he wasn’t working on some project around the house, he was building somethin` in his wood shop in the garage or drumming up some venture. Last time he got some fool idea he was going to raise them long ear rabbits for prize winnin`. Now that was a waste a money, wound up barbequin` all them damn rabbits.

Anyway, Owen and I had our fill of coffee and decided it was time to go visit old Jack and see what he was up to. There was a light frost on the ground still when we went outside. I could see Owen’s breath as he was unlocking the truck. I think he was still mumbling somethin’ about Clare when he stretched across the seat and popped the lock on my side. With a jerk I opened the hinge-rusted door and slid in. Man, there is nothin’ I hate more than Owen’s truck when it’s chilly outside. Them cold hard vinyl seats really freeze your ass quick. `Course the thing never starts right either. Such was the case that Saturday morning. I sat there chattering while Owen cursed that truck out every time it stalled again. I had to ask him, “Owen. Do you put oil in this truck?”

“`Course I do!” he said. “You think I’m stupid or somethin’? Goddamn truck’s just a piece a shit. Likes to be difficult when it’s cold outside.”

My left eyebrow sort of stood on end when he said that. Then I had to tell him, “Owen, this truck don’t never run right even when it’s warm out.”